


Tyrus One Shots

by sophies_earbuds



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: AM - Freeform, Andi Mack - Freeform, Cyrus Goodman - Freeform, M/M, TJ Kippen - Freeform, Tyrus - Freeform, and its gaaaaay, its fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:57:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophies_earbuds/pseuds/sophies_earbuds
Summary: In this new series, I'm publishing my Tyrus fics (and I have so many in my drafts, most are still a work in progress).Enjoy!





	1. I Want To Run Away With You

**Author's Note:**

> In this one shot, I wrote based on the prompt "I want to run away with you," and it pretty much just all came out of me in a matter of hours. I've also aged them up, so Cyrus is a sophomore, and TJ is a junior.

Nights like this make Cyrus feel safe. Like there’s never anyone in the world who will hurt him, and the sky is simply filled with beautiful, pure white clouds, there’s a small rain shower every day, followed by the warming sun and a rainbow. He feels like everything is okay, and everything is calm, and still. Nothing is wrong. 

It doesn’t even matter what season it is. Winter, spring, summer, fall; neither is better than another, and each give off their own unique feeling. But one thing is always the same: they make Cyrus feel safe, simply because he has TJ with him. 

Whether the calmness comes from TJ, or from the nights in particular, Cyrus has no idea. But nevertheless, he enjoys them, and they’re the one thing he doesn’t question. 

Currently, he’s sat on his front porch bench swing, completely engulfed in a hug-slash-cuddle by TJ, and under the warmest, heaviest blanket they could find. Wearing TJ’s basketball hoodie from last year paired with an old pair of red plaid pyjama pants, legs curled up next to him, and a book in his lap, he’s never been more comfortable. Especially since TJ is wearing his own new basketball hoodie, which is definitely much softer than his old one, and his cheek is pressed up against his shoulder. 

Taking in a deep breath through his nose, the air smells fresh, and of things like cinnamon and pumpkin, just from the general goings-on of fall. He doesn’t even try to hide the smile that finds his face when he catches the scent of TJ, which really has no other identification in Cyrus’ mind other than “TJ.” It just always has been, and always will be, TJ. 

“Are you thinking about something?” TJ asks quietly, clicking his phone off and pulling Cyrus closer, if it’s even possible to do so at this point. Cyrus buries his face in TJ’s neck, planting a soft, innocent kiss before turning his head back to look at his street, void of any cars and people. It’s just quiet. 

“Nothing too important,” Cyrus tells him, putting his bookmark between the pages of his novel, setting it off to the side so he can take TJ’s hand in his, and delicately play with his fingers with his other. 

“What’s it about?” TJ queries. Cyrus didn’t think it was at all possible, but since he’s known TJ, his voice has deepened significantly. He’s definitely not complaining though. 

“Something stupid,” he answers, taking another deep breath. The thought from deep in his mind threatens to jump free again at the mention of stupid thoughts. It’s only dormant, finally budding when he’s alone, most often at ungodly hours of the night. But somehow, it’s come back, like a persistent bulb that only sprouts under the right conditions. And yet he doesn’t feel scared of it this time, like he has every other time. This time, it feels right. Like he might finally be ready to say it out loud. Or maybe it’s the fact that the sun set half an hour ago, and he knows that TJ won’t be able to see his face when he says it. 

“I doubt it’s as stupid as you think it is,” TJ assures. His hands are rough, calloused, after so many years of playing the same sport every season. Cyrus bites his lip. 

“Okay, maybe it’s not stupid, but it’s definitely not smart.” He starts to soothingly run his thumb over TJ’s knuckles. Whether it’s soothing for TJ, he doesn’t know. But it helps himself for sure. 

“Since when do you have not smart thoughts?”

Cyrus laughs. “Since I started hanging around you, Mr. Scary-Basketball-Guy.” The nickname serves as an inside joke now, remembering the days when TJ was an intimidating basketball jock. Over the years, he’s definitely softened, inside and out. Right down to the lack of hair gel and product. 

“And what might this not smart thought be?” TJ pries, making Cyrus a little nervous. Three years of dating TJ, and he still gets the chills and the butterflies and the bouts of jittery nervousness around him. Tonight, though, it’s definitely not as scary as it usually is. He feels content with this nervous feeling. 

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” Cyrus warns him, shooting him an arched eyebrow. TJ laughs, nodding. 

“I already think you’re crazy. No single thought is going to magnify that,” he reassures Cyrus, reaching over with his free hand to affectionately run a thumb over his cheek, smiling softly. 

“What if it’s a scary thought?” Cyrus wonders out loud, quietly whispering, as his parents are inside, and he doesn’t necessarily want them to hear this conversation. 

“I’ve had my fair share. It’s time you share yours, too.” Cyrus takes a deep breath, looking into TJ’s eyes for just a split moment, seeing all of the sincerity pour out. He quickly looks away, staring at the empty, dark road, before deciding to open his mouth. 

“I want to run away with you.” 

His cheeks are flushing red, hot, and the blanket becomes smothering as the embarrassing words fly off his tongue so easily. His movement stops, and TJ quickly links his fingers with his, squeezing tight, strong. 

“Someday,” TJ says. “Not today, but someday.”

“I just-” Cyrus starts, taking a deep breath. This really is a scary thought. “Everything seems to be so good right now. And I’m turning sixteen soon, which means I’m going to have that weird period of time where I’m technically allowed to dropout of school, and we could just get away from here and start everything new.” He’s rambling now, he’s so aware of it, but if he doesn’t get this thought out now, he’ll never finish it. “And I just-” Another deep breath. “I love you so much, and the thought of having to go through three more years of high school is scary, seeing as so much can happen in that span of time. And then you’re going to graduate and go off to college, and I’ll still be here, trying to get through senior year without having you with me. Now seems as good a time as any.”

His voice manages to stay steady, and his head is still clear. 

TJ plants a kiss on top of his head, pulling his hand away so he can wrap his arm around Cyrus’ shoulders, pulling him even closer, leaning his chin on top of his head now. 

“I love you, too, Cyrus, and I promise you that one day we’re going to have everything we want. But in order to have that, we should both probably graduate high school at the very least,” TJ reminds him. Suddenly, Cyrus is face to face with an entire role reversal. Since when is he the spontaneous, impulsive one? And TJ the level-headed logical one?

“I know. It’s just a thought I can’t seem to shake. I mean, I want to be with you forever. But at our age, forever is just so far away,” Cyrus whispers, barely audible. “Everything feels like it has to happen now, or it never will.” 

“I understand exactly what you mean. But as long as we both want it, we can make it happen,” TJ promises softly. 

“I love you a lot, TJ,” Cyrus says through an exhale. 

“I love you, too, babe.”

Yeah. Nights like these are his favourite.


	2. We Need To Stop Dragging Our Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyrus finds out that TJ has more of a protective side than he'd previously thought, and hand in hand finds out that it might cause some tension.

Cyrus is almost hesitant to go to the swings, for one reason, and one reason only: he is one hundred percent sure that TJ will already be there, and he’s one hundred percent sure that his face is the last one TJ wants to see. 

Cyrus is definitely not one for fights, especially with the people he cares about the most. He’d burst out crying when he and Andi got into a fight in the fourth grade because she covered his favourite mechanical pencil in washi tape. Of course, now the pencil is safely kept in a box of fond memories, but it still felt like a big deal at the time. Even recently, when Andi and Buffy had been in their own quarrel, Cyrus felt as though he had to fix it, because it just seems to be the thing he’s good at. When he couldn’t fix that one, he once again started crying, but this time in the quietness of his own bedroom, and not in the middle of a classroom. Cyrus is starting to find out that thirteen year old cries tend to be saved for privacy, when nobody can judge him for it. 

Now, he finds himself in a fight of his own, and this time, with TJ. It was a huge misunderstanding, and was definitely sparked by the fact that they’d both been withholding certain emotions, never letting the other know. At some point, something snapped. 

They’d been hanging out like normal, walking around after TJ’s shift at the gym, having an enjoyable conversation about the importance of binder clips over paper clips (they held significantly more paper) when a boy from Cyrus’ dance class approached them. 

“Cyrus! Hey!” he had exclaimed, waving as he crossed the street. Cyrus turned around, mostly confused, and smiled at the boy he didn’t even know the name of. 

“Hey! You’re in dance class, right?” he asked, needing reassurance that he was recalling the same face. The boy nodded and laughed. 

“Glad to know I’m so memorable.” He reached a hand up to push his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes, only to have it come falling back down again. Cyrus was beginning to get uncomfortable, especially with TJ standing next to him, probably not even knowing what to do. Wasn’t it rude to interrupt someone who was having a conversation? He was beginning to get annoyed with the nameless boy. 

“So, uh, I really have to-”

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to hang out sometime?” the boy asked. Cyrus raised an eyebrow, not really feeling entirely okay with this situation. “I mean, I know this is kinda weird, running up to you on the street and all. But I don’t know, I just figured if I didn’t say it now, I wouldn’t ever ask.” Okay. This was definitely getting weird. 

“Who are you?” 

Cyrus turned around, stunned the the words hadn’t come from his own mouth, but from TJ’s. His eyes were narrowed, and he was cocking his eyebrow, standing much more rigidly than he was a few minutes ago. That was when Cyrus knew the worst had happened. 

TJ had gone into intimidating bully mode. 

“Welcome back Scary-Basketball-Guy,” Cyrus whispered to himself, stepping back to try and talk TJ out of bully mode. “TJ, he’s in my dance class.”

“Yeah, I heard that part. I just want to know why he’s being all creepy,” TJ said, definitely aimed at the now dubbed “Dance Dude” by Cyrus. 

“TJ, please,” Cyrus said softly, forcing eye contact with the older boy. When green eyes met brown, Cyrus almost saw him falter. Until he closed his eyes and looked to the side, face hardening again. 

“Look, I didn’t mean to get in the middle of you guys, I didn’t realise. I’ll just go,” Dance Dude said, holding his arms up in surrender. “I guess I’ll see you Monday then?” he asked Cyrus, looking completely terrified. Cyrus nodded silently, and the boy who still didn’t have a name ran off, pocketing his hands as he rounded a corner fairly quickly. Cyrus definitely noted his lack of apology. 

Then he turned to TJ, who looked like he was practically about to crack like a statue with how hard his facial expression was. Cyrus could barely look at him as he sighed, looking at the ground. 

“You know I hate it when you turn into Scary-Basketball-Guy,” Cyrus deadpanned, not really sure how he was feeling. All he knew was that there was a pit in his stomach, and a pressure in his chest, threatening to escape in a scream. 

“I don’t appreciate random people coming up to you and interrupting a conversation,” TJ said, as if he was mad at Cyrus. His words sounded protective, but his tone sounded full of conviction. It knocked Cyrus back a step. 

“I don’t need your protection all the time. I knew who he was!” Cyrus said, his ears starting to burn with the heat of his now bubbling anger. Oh, no. It was starting. 

“Oh please, you don’t even know what his name is,” TJ said, rolling his eyes. Cyrus’ cheeks flared red in shame and humiliation. 

“That’s not the point,” Cyrus said quietly, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling so much smaller than he did before. “He was only being friendly.”

“Oh, my God,” TJ said, his voice full of disgust. There was a muted thump, and Cyrus assumed it was TJ hitting his hand against his leg in exasperation. “You call that friendly? Listen to me Cyrus, he was flirting with you.” The words came out clipped, dripping with venom, and Cyrus could only begin to wonder why before his mouth took over. 

“So what if he was? What’s so bad about a guy liking me?” Cyrus said, his words coming out choked. If TJ was homophobic, he’d never be able to recover from that discovery. He felt the back of his head starting to buzz, his fingers starting to tingle, and his eyes starting to sting. This was the beginning of a panic attack. 

“I-” TJ started, but was cut off by his own sigh. He took a few deep breaths before his voice came back, this time quieter, almost unheard. “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“Then what is the problem here?” Cyrus asked, a tear threatening to slip as he looked at TJ, who was staring at the ground, head ducked in what looked like humiliation. Suddenly, there was a small, wet spot on the pavement, and TJ was wiping his eyes, turning around. “TJ, what is going on?” he asked again, this time with more curiosity than conviction. TJ turned around suddenly. 

“Damnit, Cyrus, I like you! Okay?” TJ said, his lungs seeming to take an exhausted breath for him. Maybe it was a sob. Cyrus didn’t know. He was, once again, knocked back a step. But this time, the pressure seemed to manifest in his heart, tearing it open and making him lose any sort of control. Tears began to fall down his cheeks, even if he didn’t want them to. And he couldn’t even move his arms to wipe them again. “I like you.” The words were more broken that time. Before Cyrus could even think about replying, TJ was already walking away quickly, his hands reaching up to his face. 

Cyrus was simply left on the sidewalk, trying to pinpoint the moment things went bad. 

Now, he’s standing at the perimeter of the park, trying to decide whether he should take the step, or double back to where he was, and let them both just forget. 

He can’t forget, though. Not after a confession like that. Especially since the feelings aren’t unrequited. 

Looking around, the park seems deserted. Kids don’t usually come to the park when it starts getting cold, seeing as the sun sets earlier, and parents don’t want to parade around a freezing park just so their kids can go down a slide a few times before they lose interest due to their dwindling attention span. It makes for a perfect place for the older kids to hang out during fall and winter. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, closing his eyes and realising just how exhausted he is. Bawling his eyes out tends to have that effect on him, and the fact that they were hand in hand with a panic attack definitely doesn’t help. He knows that his eyelashes are crusted with tears, and his cheeks are red and puffy, but if he doesn’t do this now, he never will. There will never be a better time. 

Bravely, he steps onto the park property, listening to the crunching of leaves under his shoes, and the whistling of wind in his ears. He’s light headed and dizzy, but he has to do this. 

The only time he hesitates is when he starts to near the swings, and he sees the small, far away figure of TJ sitting there, head dipped, and feet barely leaving the ground. He stops for a moment, just simply watching, feeling horrible about everything. Quickly, he takes a deep breath, and starts forward again. As he’s walking, the noisy leaves catch TJ’s attention, and his head snaps up, staring dumbly at Cyrus before looking down again. Cyrus takes this as the closest thing he’ll get to an invitation, and gets closer, sitting down on the swing next to TJ as if he’s a feral cat, neither boy daring to say a word. 

Cyrus begins swinging, hoping that the sound of the metal chain will make him brave enough to say what he needs to say. He’d even rehearsed it. 

Instead, he starts humming, feeling much more content starting out that way. But words startle him, and he stops swinging. 

“Legs go up, legs go down.” The words are quiet, and sung with the melody of Cyrus’ humming. A smile slowly manifests itself on Cyrus’ face. “That’s how we make the swing go ‘round.” 

Cyrus starts to feel absolutely ridiculous as TJ sings the words he’d made up when he was little, his cheeks burning at the embarrassment of hearing it come from someone else’s mouth. At this point, TJ is one of three people who know about the song. And he actually bothered to remember the juvenile lyrics. 

“Drag your feet, you’ll go slow. The more you drag, the less you go.” 

A mutual silence comes over them as Cyrus starts to swing again. 

“You think I’m an idiot, don’t you?” TJ asks quietly, words broken. Cyrus has to take a deep breath. Apparently, the conversation part of the argument is happening now. 

“No, I don’t. That would make me an idiot, too,” Cyrus tells him, almost forgetting how to speak for a moment. There’s another beat of silence before TJ speaks again. 

“I’m sorry I lost my temper. I know you hate the Scary-Basketball-Guy,” he says, still not looking at Cyrus. 

“Only in certain situations. Other times he comes in handy,” Cyrus tells him, trying to offer some sort of comic relief. He’s really not sure how people handle these situations. He’s just kinda winging it. 

“I just get protective sometimes. I can’t help it.” The words are honest, and raw, and they start splitting Cyrus’ heart in half, simply because of how sweet they are. He can’t help the smile that grows on his face. 

“I know. I get it. Trust me, if I had any capability of being intimidating, there would have been multiple casualties on my behalf, all from defending you,” Cyrus admits. He’s not beating around the bush. He doesn’t have the time nor the patience for dragging things out. At this statement, TJ laughs, though it sounds more like a scoff. 

“Nah, you don’t have a mean bone in your body,” he says, his voice full of what sounds like longing. It’s now or never. 

“TJ,” he starts, waiting until the older boy finally lifts his head to look at him. “You’re not alone,” he says, looking into his eyes. His face is softer now than it was before, and he looks just as exhausted as Cyrus feels. 

“So, you’re telling me that I didn’t totally ruin everything?” TJ asks, looking away. There’s more humour in his voice than curiosity, the question laced with sarcasm. Cyrus laughs softly, shaking his head. 

“Maybe we just need to stop dragging our feet,” he says, biting his lip. When TJ doesn’t look at him, he reaches over, placing his hand on top of TJ’s on the swing chain, pulling it off and tangling their fingers together, leaving them hanging between them. 

“This is terrifying,” TJ tells him, his free hand coming up to rub his forehead. Cyrus feels tension in the exact same place, suggesting that TJ must have had quite a similar crying session. The thought sends ice through his blood, and his look softens. He squeezes TJ’s hand in reassurance, nodding when he looks at him. 

“Definitely. But if we do it together, it’s much less scary,” Cyrus reminds him. TJ takes a deep breath through his nose. 

“I really like you, Underdog,” he says, forming his first real smile since before the argument. 

“I really like you, too, TJ,” Cyrus replies, returning the gesture. Suddenly, everything’s changed, and Cyrus isn’t sure if he’s necessarily ready. Nevertheless, he’s here now, and he can’t go back. 

“Wanna go to The Spoon? Maybe start this day over?” TJ asks, proving to remain braver than Cyrus by a longshot. Cyrus nods, slowly letting go of TJ’s hand and standing up, reaching out again, letting TJ return the gesture. Hand in hand, Cyrus starts to feel content as he faces TJ for the first time in this new, weird era. 

“Yeah. Let’s start over,” he says, starting to walk backwards, pulling TJ along with him as wide smiles begin to take over their frowns, and sheepish conversation fills their silence, full of admiration and newfound mutual feelings. It’s as if nothing had even happened, and yet everything still changed.


	3. Consider Me Spider-Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyrus goes to the annual carnival with Andi and Buffy, but when things start to go downhill, a good samaritan is there to save him.

This is going to be a good night. 

Out with his friends during the one time a year when their town does anything remotely fun, and having permission to stay out past dark, Cyrus is confident that this is definitely going to be a good night. 

He has Andi and Buffy flanking his sides, and while their friendship is in slight shambles, everything feels like it’s been forgotten for this one special night, where they each knew they’d regret not coming with each other, like they had for the past seven years. 

Tonight, the fair is in town. Everything smells like fried dough and nachos and popcorn, and every night there are bright, neon fluorescent lights that bathe the surrounding areas in their colours. People are milling around, buying tickets at the door, counting their bills as they hope to pay for games and food and attractions. There’s even a petting zoo with cows, sheep, pigs, goats, and horses. Cyrus is sure there are even donkeys somewhere in there. 

The group of three had plans to stay out all afternoon, playing games and eating food, walking around until after dark, just having a good time in general. It’s the last night of the fair, and if he is going to be spending any of that with anyone, it’s going to be Andi and Buffy. 

The night starts out great, with a quick pace of going from game to game, playing in hopes of winning prizes. For awhile, Andi and Buffy actually have a great time together, and Cyrus is perfectly content just watching them live their dynamic, from before any conflicts got in the way. 

It isn’t too long before they’d walked the entirety of the park, buying things from vendors like necklaces and magnets, even a t-shirt or two. And while they haven’t played too many games, Cyrus has to say that they’d officially run out of fun things to do together. Perhaps the strain on Andi and Buffy’s friendship is the cause, or maybe they really had run out of things to do. 

Eventually, Cyrus suggests that they sit down, rest for a few minutes, and see if that would make things seem more fun. It’s a shot in the dark, but who knows, maybe it will work. 

“Buffy,” he prods, “we haven’t played that basketball game yet. I’m sure you could win a few hundred prizes that way.” He turns to look at his friend, who has a less than amused look plastered on her face. Her elbow is resting on her leg, and her face is prominently squished in her hand, as if her arm is the only thing keeping her head attached to the rest of her body. 

“I’m not sure that I-” 

“Would you look at that, it’s the Good Hair Crew!” a voice says from behind them. They each turn their heads to the source of the noise, and from the corner of his eye, Cyrus can see Buffy’s face light up. 

“Walker! I thought you said you couldn’t come tonight?” she asks, standing up to greet the new person. Cyrus cautiously looks to Andi, not knowing how she’s going to take this one. 

“My schedule cleared up, and I thought I’d come and surprise you. Hi Cyrus,” he greets. Cyrus waves, putting on a smile to be polite, like he’d been taught to do from a young age. “Andi,” Walker nods to her in acknowledgment. Andi begrudgingly puts on her own smile, although it looks more like a grimace, and she probably knows it. 

“I am substantially surprised,” Buffy muses through a laugh, taking Walker’s hand. Cyrus already has that falling feeling in his gut, the one that tells him that something bad is about to happen. 

“Do you guys mind if I steal her away for the night?” Walker asks, effectively giving the puppy eyes he probably doesn’t even know he has. 

And there it is. That’s the bad thing Cyrus’ gut is warning him about. He opens his mouth to answer, but Andi practically slams a hand into his chest, causing him to cough a little bit. He looks over, more confused than anything. 

“Of course, I was just about to leave, anyway,” Andi says, definitely fake smiling at this point. Cyrus’ face falls, immediately feeling abandoned. 

“Well, perfect! I guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Walker says. Buffy looks almost helpless next to him, looking at Andi like she has three heads, and then looking over to Cyrus for help. He shakes his head slightly, not even knowing what to do in this situation. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you later,” Buffy says, sounding more cheerful than her face looks. She looks at Walker and smiles before they’re off on their way. Cyrus waits until they’re definitely out of earshot before grabbing onto Andi’s arm, which is still plastered to his chest. 

“What are you doing? I thought you said you could stay out late!” Cyrus says, almost frantically. Andi retracts her arm, placing her knotted hands in her lap. 

“We couldn’t just tell Walker to leave us alone, and I am definitely not going to walk around just to see them together. I’m just gonna take the bus home, or call mom, or Cici, or-” 

“But that leaves me alone! I can’t walk around here alone, I’ll get jumped or something. You know how defenseless I am when I’m alone,” Cyrus says, knowing how ridiculous the chances of him being jumped are. There hasn’t been a crime in their town since someone stole a single strawberry from the market. And that’s as wild as crimes get there. “Could I come with you?” 

Andi looks down, her face falling as she grabs her bag from the place it’s sitting right next to her. “I’m sorry, Cyrus, I just want to be alone right now. Maybe you can catch up with Buffy and Walker,” she says, starting to walk away, backwards. “I’ll see you later,” she practically whispers, turning around and sprinting away. 

Yep. Totally the best night ever. 

Cyrus sighs, completely at a loss for what to do. Of course, he can’t catch up with Buffy and Walker. If they wanted him tagging along, they would have asked him. It was clear that they wanted to be alone. 

His dad isn’t supposed to pick him up for another few hours, and the last drops of sun are barely to be seen over the horizon. Maybe he can just wait out the time by playing games with whatever leftover tickets he has. 

Eventually, he decides to buy a plate of fried dough for himself. Because there’s nothing better for a bad mood than eating his feelings. 

He settles back down on the bench where he was so politely abandoned by his friends, and quietly picks at his food while scrolling through social media, seeing pictures of everyone else having a great time at the fair he’s currently miserable at. There’s no more sun, and he can barely see about five feet in front of him. Checking the time, it’s only barely six o’clock, and he’s still not supposed to be picked up until closer to ten. The one night he has a late curfew is the one night he has nothing to do. 

He’s just about to start walking again when he feels a presence behind him, and tenses up. 

This is it. He’s actually going to get jumped. 

“Hey, Underdog, mind if I sit?” 

Oh. It’s just TJ, not a crazy night lurker out to get him. 

“Announce yourself next time!” Cyrus says, much louder than he’d planned for it to come out. He moves over on the bench, signaling for TJ to sit down next to him. 

“Sorry, I thought you’d hear me walking up,” TJ explains, sitting much closer to Cyrus than was necessary. But definitely not unpleasant. “What are you doing here alone? Weren’t you coming with Andi and Buffy?” he asks, his face confused. Cyrus sighs. 

“I did, but they both left me. Boy drama,” Cyrus tells him, offering his plate to TJ. No way is he possibly finishing this entire plate himself. 

TJ rips off a piece of dough. “Really? Neither of them offered to let you come with them?” 

“Nope. Buffy went off with Walker, and you can imagine how Andi reacted,” Cyrus says. “I even asked Andi if I could come with her, but she said she wanted to be alone. Usually I’d be fine with that, but this whole thing has been going on for so long that it’s just annoying now,” he said, even though he felt guilty about it. He’s supposed to be supportive, like they are for him. And yet here he is, the moment they’re not around, talking about them like they’re the bane of his existence. He almost wants to take it back, but the reality is that they both left him alone. Buffy he could understand. Cyrus might have even done the same thing. It was more Andi’s leaving that he’s having problems with. 

“That’s a pretty shitty situation,” TJ says simply. Cyrus nods, used to the way TJ would swear sometimes. “Well, I’m here alone, too. Maybe we can at least make the rest of the night somewhat enjoyable?” TJ asks, looking at him with something like hope in his eyes. Whatever that hope is for, Cyrus has no idea. 

He smiles, nodding his head. “That sounds like a great idea,” he says excitedly, standing up with the half eaten plate of fried dough. “There are some two player games I’ve been dying to play,” he adds, starting to get excited about not being alone anymore. Possibly even more excited that it’s TJ he’s going to be hanging out with. 

They start walking, and as they get closer to all of the games, TJ has moved so close that his hand brushes against Cyrus’ every second, making him wonder if he should move away. TJ’s lack of personal space is actually quite comforting to Cyrus, who’s definitely much more clingy than he’d ever let on, for fear of scaring someone off. 

Even so, the only other person Cyrus has ever had a crush on is Jonah, and that was still nothing compared to the feeling he gets in his chest and stomach when TJ looks at him the way he does. His ears will start burning, his cheeks turn red, and his heart will start beating so fast he’s sure he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. And yet, he still feels most comfortable around TJ. Tonight, he feels more comfortable with TJ than he did with Andi and Buffy. 

Approaching the basketball game, Cyrus almost doesn’t want to play with TJ, because he’s definitely going to do horribly, and that’s not even just compared to TJ. 

“Come on, I’ll go easy on you,” TJ says, grabbing Cyrus’ arm and pulling upon noticing his hesitance. He tries to dig his heels into the ground, but TJ is just as strong as he’d predicted he’d be, so he’s practically flung forward, almost crashing into the older boy, but catching himself at the last minute as he throws away the unfinished plate of fried dough into a nearby trash can, and puts his hands down flat on the counter of the game booth. 

He hands the employee two tickets, and braces himself for the game to start. He definitely does not expect the loudest horn to blow in his ear, though, and ends up jumping, missing the cue for the beginning of the game. TJ turns to look at him, laughing as Cyrus regains his balance and starts throwing basketballs in random directions. He really is aiming for the basket, he swears. 

By the time TJ has made twenty baskets, Cyrus finally makes one, and is practically beaming at the fact that it’s his first basket ever. He keeps throwing, hoping that maybe, with luck, he’ll make another in the last thirty seconds of the game. 

As the horn blows again, he’s less surprised this time, immediately turning to TJ and smiling widely, matching the grin on the older boy’s face as he reaches both of his hands out, offering high fives and a congratulatory side hug that doesn’t end, and keeps Cyrus smiling for much longer than he’d intended to. 

TJ’s hand settles on his shoulder, pulling him in even closer as the employee gives TJ a choice for the prize he wants, gesturing to everything on the wall behind him. It’s mostly giant stuffed animals, a few random knick knacks, and a choice of any basketball he wants. Cyrus expects him to get one of the basketballs, but instead he points to one of the stuffed animals - a rather large panda, but small enough to carry around comfortably - and asks the man to take it down. 

When the panda is finally in TJ’s possession, he lets go of Cyrus (much to his disappointment), and turns around, smiling so adorably that Cyrus has to stop himself from saying “aww” out loud.

“For you, as a trophy for your first basket,” TJ says, holding out the panda. Cyrus can feel himself start blushing as he reaches out and takes the bear from TJ, holding it close, trying to hide his growing smile behind the fluffy head. 

“Thanks,” Cyrus says, not exactly sure how to properly appreciate a gift like this. Isn’t it more of a couple-y thing to do? 

Maybe he’s just reading too much into it. It’s a nice gift either way. 

“What should I name him?” Cyrus asks as they start walking, and immediately regrets the words. Why would he ever admit to the older guy he likes that he wants to name the stuffed animal he won for him?

“Maybe… Tyler?” TJ suggests, his eyebrow quirking up toward Cyrus in question. Cyrus smiles at him, nodding his head, feeling the shame of acting so juvenile quickly lift off of his shoulders. 

“Tyler it is then. Any reason?” he asks. Cyrus could barely name his fish before it had died when he was littler, so it was a mystery to him at how anyone could think of a name that quickly. 

“Nothing in particular. Just a good name,” TJ says, offering a soft smile as they pass more games, all lit up with fluorescents, casting neon light on their faces, and tinted shadows on the ground beside them. 

Walking around with TJ, Cyrus almost lets himself forget that he’s helplessly in love with him, and actually has a great time. They play practically every game, going down the line, and end up having to get a giant bag to hold all of their prizes, although Cyrus still opts to hold his panda in his arms. 

“I think we’ve played just about every game here, Underdog. Do you wanna go on any of the rides?” TJ asks when they stop to take inventory on their prizes. Cyrus freezes. 

He hadn’t even considered going on any rides. 

“Um, well, you see, I’ve never actually ridden a fair ride?” Cyrus says, though it sounds more like a question. TJ gapes, as if this is the most surprising thing about Cyrus he’s ever heard. And Cyrus is about ninety-eight percent sure TJ knows he’s gay, at least hearing it through the grapevine. TJ’s surprise has Cyrus biting his lip. 

“Really? But the fair comes here every year,” TJ says, his gaping being replaced by a lopsided smile of sorts. Cyrus feels as though he might throw up already, partly from the thought of going on a ride, and mostly from the adorableness that is TJ Kippen. 

“I mean, yeah. I don’t really trust fair rides, and I’m generally afraid of things that leave the ground, so…”

“Oh, come on, please ride something? We can cross it off of that list of yours,” TJ says, tilting his head and giving Cyrus the pout. 

Oh no. Not the pout. Anything but the pout. 

Cyrus is absolutely weak for the pout. He’d pretty much give into anything for it, and TJ has to know that. It’s a dirty trick. 

“Fine, but nothing that goes upside down,” Cyrus wagers, rolling his eyes. TJ grins in triumph, picking up their bag full of prizes and starting to walk backward in the direction of the rides. Cyrus catches up with him, and that familiar arm wraps around his shoulders again, a hand coming to rest on his arm, rubbing up and down in soothing motions. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll start slow. Just think of it like the swing,” TJ says, almost a whisper, leaning down closer to Cyrus’ ear. A shiver runs down Cyrus’ spine, and he takes a deep breath. Just think of it like the swing. 

They start to near the ferris wheel, and Cyrus looks up, deciding with absolute certainty that this is nothing like the swings. 

“You know, when I said I don’t go high, I really wasn’t kidding,” Cyrus comments, trying to fill the silence that had come over them. He is actually, genuinely terrified. But if he is doing it with TJ, maybe it won’t be so bad?

“Look at it. With all of the lights, isn’t it nice to look at?” TJ asks, though Cyrus has no idea how that is relevant. 

“Well, yeah, but what does that-”

“Now do you really think that something this pretty can be scary?” he asks, cutting Cyrus off. 

Yes, Cyrus wants to say. TJ is pretty damn pretty, and he’s even more scary because of it. 

“I guess not…” Cyrus decides as they walk into the short line. Of course the line is short. This way he won’t have time to decide not to go on. 

The person working the giant machine eventually escorts them into one of the carts, fastening the metal bar tightly and then putting their giant bag of prizes on the platform next to him. There’s only enough room for two people, so Cyrus is prominently squished to one side with TJ squished into his other. Not that he’s complaining. 

“See? This isn’t so bad,” TJ says into his ear, smiling reassuringly. Cyrus smiles back, laughing a little bit, because he’s actually on the ferris wheel!

“No, it isn’t,” Cyrus beams, proud of himself for at least getting this far. Even when the ride starts moving, he feels completely fine. It’s actually kinda nice, especially having TJ next to him, and so close at that. 

Then the ride stops. 

“What’s happening? Oh no, oh no, we’re gonna die,” Cyrus says, his eyes widening. He’s tempted to look down to see what’s happening, or if they’re going to start moving again soon, but vertigo gets the better of him, and he just stares at his hands on the bar in front of him. He can hear TJ chuckle a little bit before a hand comes up to rest on his shoulder, and Cyrus turns around to look at him. 

“Cyrus, they’re only letting on more people at the bottom. We’ll start moving again in a minute,” TJ explains. His voice isn’t even teasing, just soft and reassuring, calming a few of his nerves. Even so, he still has to chant don’t look down in his head, and he’s pretty sure that the phrase slips through his lips at least once, because TJ’s grip on his shoulder tightens. 

Of course, Cyrus decides that now would be a good time to look down. And to say that they’re high is an understatement. He can’t even make out the people in the crowd below them before he’s turning away again, burying his face in TJ’s neck without shame, holding onto the bar with white knuckles. 

The ride starts moving again, and Cyrus refuses to look, opting for keeping his face hidden in the fabric of TJ’s shirt. To Cyrus’ surprise, TJ’s hand leaves his shoulder and comes to rest on his hand, prodding him to let go. As he does, fingers slip between his own, and suddenly it isn’t the ride he’s so nervous about anymore. 

Cyrus lifts his head to look out to the sea of people, realising that they’re back at the bottom, and quickly about to rise again. He sees Buffy among the people, watching him and TJ on the ferris wheel, Walker glued to her side. 

Cyrus can’t help but groan as they elevate once more, and he leans his head down, looking at his lap. 

“Hey,” TJ says, using his other hand to tap Cyrus’ chin, making him look up. “Look at me,” he says softly. “Just at me. Don’t look down.” 

Looking at TJ might make Cyrus even more nervous than looking down does, but the steadiness in TJ’s voice makes him look anyway. He doesn’t mean to stare for so long, but as time progresses, he can’t help but somehow get lost in TJ’s eyes, living up the cliche stereotype that everyone thinks is fake. Spoiler alert: it is very very real, and Cyrus is paying heavily for it. 

With the whole atmosphere, TJ holding his hand, their legs and arms flush, Cyrus’ brain starts to get a little foggy, and suddenly the one thing he can think about is finally just leaning in, and doing the one thing his head can think up clearly. 

As they stop at the top again, Cyrus doesn’t even acknowledge it, still deciding what he’s going to do. He realises that he’s been starting into TJ’s eyes for much too long, and averts his eyes down to his lips, which is probably even more of a mistake than before, because suddenly he’s not in control anymore. 

He’s leaning in, not even thinking a little bit, as his other hand comes up to hold TJ’s face. He hesitates for only a moment, just long enough to give him a chance to back out, and when TJ doesn’t stop him, he finally closes that small distance. 

His fingertips feel tingly, his cheeks are warm, and their legs end up tangled together as the kiss progresses. And then it finally sinks in. 

_Cyrus is kissing TJ Kippen._

He pulls away, needing air to take in this new revelation. As he leans farther back, TJ smiles at him, wider than Cyrus had ever seen before, and suddenly they’re both laughing. Cyrus would have stayed like that all night if he could, and he leaned back in, with so much more confidence this time. 

Loud clapping pulls Cyrus out of the daze, and he leans away from TJ again, looking out to the crowd that has accumulated, and is definitely watching them as the ride moves again, slowing down at the bottom to let them out. 

Cyrus looks over at TJ, who’s beaming and looking around at the people circling the ferris wheel, all applauding them. When he looks out, Cyrus can see Buffy and Walker among them, clapping the most enthusiastically out of everyone. If Cyrus didn’t know any better, he’d think that it was Buffy who’d started the applause in the first place. 

When they are escorted off of the cart, Cyrus feels like he’s going to collapse, he’s so weak in the knees. If it weren’t for TJ holding onto his hand, he’d probably fall over upon stepping onto the platform. 

They retrieve their bag of prizes from the platform, and walk out into the mass of people. Cyrus is smiling so widely that his cheeks hurt, and they keep walking to find a bench to sit down on. 

“I told you it wouldn’t be as scary as you thought it’d be,” TJ tells him. It may be dark, but Cyrus is fairly sure he can see a blush on the other boy’s cheeks. 

“Oh, I was definitely still terrified. But… I’m glad I went on with you,” he whispers, absentmindedly running his thumb over TJ’s hand. “And thanks for saving me tonight. I’d say I had much more fun with you than I did with Buffy and Andi,” he adds, leaning his head down on TJ’s shoulder. Is he allowed to do that now, or is it just a ferris wheel thing? Either way, he’s doing it, and it feels… right. Like it was meant to happen from the first time they met. 

“I’m here to save you anytime you need saving. Consider me Spider-Man,” TJ says, his head coming to rest lightly on top of Cyrus’. 

“Just to clear up any confusion,” Cyrus starts, “that wasn’t just a one time thing right?” he asks, not knowing whether that was established or not. He tends to be a bit clueless when it comes to his own life problems, but with anyone else’s, he’s practically a fortune teller. “Because I didn’t-”

“I like you, too, Cyrus. We can talk more about it tomorrow. Right now, how about we just stay here.” 

Cyrus is completely content in doing that. But when he checks his phone, he realises that it’s already past ten, meaning his father is probably already in the parking lot, waiting for him. 

“I’d really love to, but my ride is here, I’m sorry,” Cyrus says, biting his lip. He really wishes he could stay. 

“That’s fine, I should be getting home, too. I’ll see you tomorrow? We can go through all of these prizes,” TJ says as Cyrus stands up, still not letting go of TJ’s hand. Cyrus smiles, picking up Tyler the Panda and holding him tightly in his unoccupied arm. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” Cyrus says, finally letting go. Slowly, he leans in, kissing TJ tentatively, and receiving the softest, most longing gesture in the world as TJ’s index finger and thumb hold onto Cyrus’ chin. 

When they separate for the last time that night, Cyrus offers a small “bye” and a wave, turning around and smiling so brightly to himself that he can’t even see where he’s going. He’s pretty sure his steps look wobbly, and he’s probably swaying from side to side, which most likely looks very ridiculous from where TJ can see him, but he doesn’t care. He’s holding onto Tyler the Panda so tight, and he’s so utterly happy, that no matter what, nothing can bring down his mood. His father doesn’t even make him explain when he climbs into the car, seeming happy simply because Cyrus is so happy. 

And as soon as he gets home, he’s exhausted, collapsing straight onto his bed, and propping Tyler up against the wall as he starts to drift off, not even changing out of his clothes. Pleasantly, his last thoughts of the day are of TJ as he slowly loses all consciousness, falling asleep with a smile on his face. 

Yeah, this was the best night ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I want to clear up is that I really love Andi, and I have to say, if the same thing happened to me that happened to her in this fic, I probably would have done the same thing. Which is probably why I wrote it that way. I hope you enjoyed the fic!


	4. Wanna Split It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyrus is ready. He's finally going to tell TJ that he likes him. 
> 
> Except, maybe he's not really going to say it.

He’s finally going to do it. He’s going to tell TJ he likes him. 

He’s just going to walk up to him, open his mouth, and blurt it out. 

Now, the only problem is figuring out how. 

Cyrus has always been one for brainstorming. There’s way too many ideas swirling around his head, and most of them are definitely not good enough to be executed. His idea for Jonah to change the lyrics in his song was arguably one of his best, but when it comes to himself, he always overthinks it. 

Maybe he could just get it out really quickly? Like ripping off a bandage. All he has to do is turn to TJ and tell him he likes him. It’s just that simple. He’s rehearsed what he’d say so many times that he practically has it memorised, and has even written it down a good number of times. Maybe he could put it into a letter and drop it into TJ’s locker when he’s not there. 

Neither Buffy nor Andi are really aware of how serious his crush on TJ is, mostly because he hasn’t told them. He figures that the least amount of people know, the more of a chance things have of not changing. And once he tells his best friends that he’s actually thinking of telling TJ, things will definitely change for good. It’s one thing to think someone is attractive, it’s another to have a full blown crush on them to the point of lying awake at three in the morning every single day, playing out the millions of ways a confession could possibly go down. 

He even has a notebook open in front of him on his bed, and he has his Spotify playlist on - one with songs that remind him of TJ - hoping to jog some sort of an idea. But alas, he has no clue what he’s going to do. For once his brain isn’t working, the one time he actually needs it to think. 

One song comes on, a pretty acoustic intro followed by a soft voice, and he can’t help but dissect the lyrics for the hundredth time. The harmonies are perfect, there’s a small hint of ukulele in the background, and the drum beat is just loud enough to be heard, but not too loud that it would burst his speakers. And the only thing going through his head is how this song can’t be about anyone other than TJ. 

Suddenly, and idea begins to sprout in his head, and he’s jotting down words, completely different from any words he’d written out before. 

Bolting out of his seat, he runs down to his kitchen, almost falling onto his butt as his sock covered feet slide across the hardwood of his stairs, and he immediately goes to the cabinet he knows will hold a box of toothpicks. 

The probability of this plan backfiring is about fifty-fifty, and the thought scares him out of his wits. He’s nowhere near TJ, and yet his stomach is filling with nausea at the possibility of this happening. But hasn’t this pining thing gone on long enough? It’s as if he’s been cooking in a microwave for so long, and now he’s just done cooking. The little “ping” went off in his head, telling him that if he doesn’t pull himself out of his metaphorical microwave, he’ll just end up exploding - and it will be messy. It’s probably just easier to do it the way he wants on his own time, instead of something bad happening and the secret getting out without his knowing about it. If he happens to lose TJ as a friend in the process, then it’s better to know now then to figure it out later, when nothing can be done to control the situation. 

Running back up to his bedroom, he tapes the piece of paper with his note written down onto the toothpick, and admires his small creation. Tilting his head, he tries to imagine what he’s visualising in his head, and with the smallest bit of confidence, he thinks that this actually might work. 

***

Cyrus is feeling pretty sick. He’s sitting in a booth at The Spoon, anxiously waiting for TJ to meet him, and trying to ignore all of the passing faces outside the giant, frost covered window by staring down at his twiddling fingers. 

Every few seconds he has to take a deep breath, because he’s sure he’ll forget to breathe if he doesn’t constantly remind himself. He can’t even look up at the plate in front of him, for fear of overthinking this plan and chickening out. 

All day, he’s been anxious and jumpy, every time someone came up to him he started to freak out, wondering if it was TJ and he’d somehow guessed what Cyrus was planning that day. Then, the one time it was TJ who’d snuck up on him, Cyrus practically jumped ten feet away, accidentally letting out a nervous squeak, and arguably giving away his emotions even more than he already had. Even though TJ simply wanted to say hello and wish him good luck on his geography test, Cyrus just had to make it awkward. 

So, now he’s just sitting here, waiting for him. And he’s scared out of his wits, thinking that he’s actually going to do this. Now, it doesn’t actually require him to say anything, but he still has to see TJ’s reaction. It’s only one step better than just sending a quick text message, and waiting for TJ to send back an edited response that would surely not be completely genuine. 

“You’ve been waiting here for about ten minutes, and you haven’t even ordered anything. You know, usually people don’t bring their own food to diners,” someone says above him, using a rather snooty voice. Cyrus looks up, seeing Amber there, then looks down to the plate in front of him, a chocolate chocolate chip muffin sitting there, mocking him, with the toothpick flag sitting next to it. 

“Sorry, Amber. I’m waiting for TJ,” Cyrus says, sounding much gloomier than he’d intended to sound. But what if TJ doesn’t even show? What if he’s blowing him off because he knows what Cyrus is going to do?

“His practise is running late, he should be on his way now,” Amber says, rolling her eyes. “So will you please just order something? I’m paid by the order,” she asks, shifting her weight from one leg to another. But Cyrus is more focused on what she said before. 

“How do you know his practise is running late?” Cyrus asks, lifting his head to look at Amber with a confused look. 

“Wow, you really know your best friend well. He’s my little brother,” Amber tells him, and Cyrus’ mouth gapes, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. 

“Brother? Since when?” Cyrus asks, immediately wanting to take back the stupid question. But it’s too late, and Amber is already snickering, shaking her head. 

“By the look on your face, I’m gonna say it’s a safe bet that you can probably answer that question on your own,” Amber says, eyeing the flag on his plate. “And what might this be?”

She goes to grab the flag, but Cyrus reacts quickly, giving away the fact that he’s definitely hiding something. Amber raises an eyebrow, and reaches over again as Cyrus is distracted. 

Reading the flag now, Amber looks at Cyrus with surprise, and Cyrus buries his face in his hands, feeling how hot his cheeks are at his embarrassment. 

“It’s a nice gesture. He’ll love it,” Amber says simply, no attitude in her tone. She sounds genuine, and honest, which are two traits Cyrus has never seen from Amber. 

“You really think so?” Cyrus asks, peeking at Amber through his fingers. Amber smiles and reaches over to take Cyrus’ hands, exposing his face again. She nods. 

“Of course. And if he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass into next year, because I can’t think of anyone better for him than you,” she says, sounding serious. Cyrus is about to thank her, but then something tugs at his mind.

If she’d only found out seconds ago that Cyrus likes TJ, how did she have that answer so prepared?

“Oh, there he is! I will go to the kitchen and stay out of your way. I really hope this works out for you Cyrus,” Amber says, pointing out the window across the snow lined street, where TJ is walking with his earbuds tucked into his ears. Before Cyrus can thank Amber, she’s already gone. 

The bell on the door chimes TJ’s entrance, and Cyrus takes a deep breath, preparing himself for this. Once TJ sits down, he’s going to see it, and there’s no turning back. He quickly picks up the flag, and hides it in his hand. 

“Underdog, hey! I’m so sorry that I’m late, our drills ended up being longer than I anticipated, but let me tell you, these new players are starting to look really good,” TJ says upon entering, sitting down at the table, eyeing the plate in the middle of them. 

“Hey, Teej. Don’t worry about being late, gave me a chance to talk to your secret sister,” Cyrus says, trying to loosen his nerves. TJ shakes his head, looking around for Amber. 

“Not a secret, just never came up. And what’s this?” he asks, pointing to the muffin sitting between them. Cyrus breathes, feeling his blood start to run cold, and his head start to feel light. This is it. 

“It’s the thing giving me anxiety,” Cyrus says simply, looking up at TJ’s eyes briefly and looking away, not feeling enough confidence to actually look at TJ while he does this. He knows that TJ is giving him that confused puppy face, but if he looks up, then he might just chicken out. 

So, he looks down at the flag in his hand, and just goes for it. He reaches up, sticking the end of the toothpick into the top of the muffin, ignoring anything around him that might convince him not to do this, and reads his note one last time, even though he can’t change it now. 

_You’re sweeter than a chocolate chocolate chip muffin._   
_Be my boyfriend?_

One last breath, and he looks back up to TJ, who’s quite honestly being very patient, and Cyrus is eternally grateful for that fact. He turns the plate around, knowing that this is the last moment. TJ knows now, as he reads, and will never be able to un-know it. Cyrus has officially told TJ that he likes him. 

He expects a verbal response, one like “well, I’ll take the muffin, but it’s a hard no thanks,” but instead sees TJ plucking the flag out of the muffin from his peripheral vision. He picks up his head, and it’s his turn to be confused as TJ turns it to the blank side, and puts his hand into his pocket. 

Then he pulls out a pen. Why TJ would carry a pen around with him, Cyrus doesn’t know. He doubts that TJ has to always have one on hand in case some weird, gay kid confesses his love for him via muffin, but maybe he’s focusing on the wrong thing. 

He tries to see what TJ is writing, but he’s clever, and puts a hand around the flag, voiding Cyrus of any vision of his response. The suspense is practically killing him. 

Once TJ takes the flag off of the table, he puts it back into the muffin, and looks Cyrus right in the eye, making him even more nervous, before turning the plate around so Cyrus can see his answer. 

_Of course._   
_Wanna split it? :D_

Cyrus isn’t sure if he’s actually laughing, because the way his laugh comes out feels like a heavy sob, but once he sees the look on TJ’s face, he concludes that he’s probably fine. He nods enthusiastically, finding a knife from the side of the table, and cuts the muffin down the middle. 

“The way to someone’s heart is through their stomach, am I right?” Cyrus says, trying his hand at actual verbal conversation. TJ laughs, ducking his head, and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I think the way to this heart is just you being you,” he says, biting his lip, looking up at Cyrus from under his eyelashes. Cyrus feels himself blush, and he smiles to himself, taking his own half of the muffin as TJ takes his. 

“Then cheers, to being us,” Cyrus says, holding up his half-muffin. TJ smiles widely, tapping his half against Cyrus’. 

“To us, Underdog,” he replies, taking a bite of the muffin top. 

Cyrus reaches over the table, taking TJ’s hand in his loosely, testing new waters, and TJ holds on tightly. If these are the new waters, then Cyrus is definitely ready to learn how to swim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes the song was lemon boy why would it not be lemon boy i've been listening to it on repeat for like a week


	5. Beats Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TJ being "so cute, like a little puppy who passed a math test."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a depiction of how TJ was running and showing everyone the C he got on his math test. Which is also why Buffy isn't there.

Finally, the school day is over. 

The last bell on a friday is like music to Cyrus’ ears, however annoying and loud it may be. Picking up his binder, he files out of the cramped classroom along with all of the other eager kids, heading to his locker across the hallway. There isn’t a whole lot in his locker aside from the four binders and two folders, his backpack, and his winter coat. Knowing he doesn’t have homework over the weekend, he leaves all of his school things and slips on his jacket, shouldering his backpack. 

Walking along with the huge crowd of kids all trying to leave the building, he checks his phone, finding notifications from a fairly lonely Andi, his mom, and TJ. And yet, still nothing from the probably estranged, and physically far away Buffy. With a sigh, he pockets his phone, and glumly looks up to watch where he’s going, as he’s already felt multiple people bump into his arms while he was looking away. 

Suddenly, there’s yelling down the hallway, and people are starting to snicker to each other, confusing Cyrus immensely as he tries to see over everyone’s heads. Some people are even looking at him, seemingly trying not to laugh, covering their mouths with horrible effort. As the shouting gets closer and louder, Cyrus realises that it sounds a lot like TJ, whooping and hollering at the other end of the hall. 

“Cyrus!” 

Now everyone is looking at him, not trying to hide their smiles and giggles this time as Cyrus’ cheeks flare up with heat. Over the heads of people, he can see TJ this time, smiling as he runs down the hallway toward him, his happiness being ever-contagious. 

“I got a C!” TJ yells, beaming brightly, clutching a packet in his hands, practically bouncing up and down once he stops running, now standing in front of Cyrus, who stops walking to celebrate with him. 

“That’s awesome TJ!” Cyrus congratulates him. He’s more surprised, however, when TJ reaches forward to wrap his arms around him. And if that isn’t flustering enough, his feet suddenly lift off the ground, and they spin around for a moment, Cyrus letting out a nervous laugh, before TJ sets him down, letting go and staring at the ground with a wide smile on his face. They’re almost alone in the hallway now, and while a few people are staggering behind to stare at them, Cyrus can definitely understand why, because he’s feeling pretty blushy at the moment. His brain can’t even come up with a better word than “blushy.” It’s definitely become too hot to be wearing a winter coat, though. 

“I’m really proud of you,” Cyrus says after a beat of flustered silence, reaching over to pat TJ on the arm. Is that a normal thing to do? 

“I thought for sure that I failed it. I think I yelped when I got it back today during class,” TJ tells him, redness definitely painting his face. Maybe it’s from all of the excited running and screaming he just did. 

Starting to walk away backwards, TJ calls back, “I just figured you’d want to know. I gotta go tell the team, don’t miss your bus! I’ll text you!” And with that, he turns around, and sprints down the hallway, letting out a loud whoop that Cyrus can’t describe as anything other than adorable. 

Cyrus shakes his head in admiration, laughing as he starts walking down the hallway again. People are definitely still looking at him, and yet he can’t stop smiling so much that his cheeks hurt. 

He feels like he’s walking around in a daze, even almost heading down the wrong hall when he comes to a junction before snapping back to reality, seeing Andi waiting by the front door of the lobby, staring at her phone, looking bored. 

Cyrus walks up to her, ready to follow through on their plan to walk to The Spoon, when she suddenly looks up at him sharply. 

“Woah, did you run here? You’re all red and blotchy,” Andi observes, making Cyrus’ cheeks burn even hotter at how easily she noticed. 

“Um, yeah. I was running late,” he lies, offering a tight smile, hoping that she’s convinced and won’t guess that he’s completely smitten because a certain basketball player picked him up and spun him around in front of a bunch of people. 

She raises an eyebrow skeptically, scoffing before letting it go, rolling her eyes and wrapping an arm around Cyrus’ shoulders. Walking out of the building, Cyrus sees TJ standing with a group of guys, showing off his C-test with a proud smile on his face. 

“What’s he so happy about?” Andi asks, tilting her head, her gaze moving from TJ to Cyrus in question. 

Cyrus smiles, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. 

“Beats me.”


End file.
